Dinner is Served

Nitish checked the recipe book again, he definitely needed fresh basil. He had taken a half day off to prepare a special dinner for his boyfriend and everything had to be perfect. This was food for the gods. The Doctor always said "if the herbs aren't right, its hardly worth the bother of preparing the meat."

It was strange how he still thought of Akshay as "The Doctor" even though they had been dating for over a year and living together for the past six months. But that was how they had met and somehow that was how he always thought of him.

The recipe book was also one of the Doctor's ideas, Alexandre Dumas' Dictionary of Cooking. Nitish had read a comic-book of The Three Musketeers as a boy. But he never knew of the man till the Doctor told him. A mixed race youth struggling by his talents in 19th century Paris. The talents though were prodigious, novelist, theatre founder and of course, gourmet. This was one of his sadly lesser known books.

It was tricky to make the recipes with Indian ingredients. When the herbs were available, their taste differed with storage and growing conditions. Even the meat tasted different. But over time, they had mastered the art of French cuisine.

Not everyone in their neighborhood was broadminded enough to accept a homosexual couple. For some they maintained the polite fiction of being "roommates". Usually their meals were private affairs, but these dinners were special occasions.

Today they were having Mr Malhotra for dinner. Mr Malhotra lived two streets away. An athletic middle aged widower, it had been months before the couple understood the deep loneliness within the man. Naturally shy, he had no real friends and no family he kept in touch with. A few hobbies like reading and playing his old guitar helped him pass the time. But he was living due to habit, not desire. Despite his health, he had a stoop and a slow shuffling walk. Nitish and he bonded over the tragedies that had touched their lives. Nitish reflected, these dinners were almost an act of charity.

But it was almost time, he needed the basil, he needed an instant delivery app. He picked up his phone. His wallpaper was an old sepia colour photograph of his family. A classic Indian family pose with Papa on the left, holding up a 5 year old Nitish. He didn't remember who had taken that picture or on which holiday. But there they were, all three of them. A moment of joy caught and preserved.

He wondered what his parents would have thought of him. He missed them dearly but he couldn't see of how they would have understood his coming out. He would never know, the accident two years ago had changed everything. One drunk driver crossed a signal and Nitish had lost everyone he cared about. It was when he felt lost and alone that he met Doctor Akshay.

The Doctor was everything he wasn't. Confident, urbane and knowledgeable, he effortlessly commanded any room he was in. What had such a man seen in him? Nitish would certainly never have dared approach first.

How far he had come since then? A small town boy, raised as a vegetarian teetotaler in denial about his sexuality. How would that earlier Nitish have felt if he knew him now? Here he was, preparing a wine based sauce from an exotic French recipe for his boyfriend. Probably he would have been terrified.

It was really thanks to the Doctor's patience. Never going too fast, always letting Nitish choose the pace. Step by step, he had unraveled new experiences. He remembered their first dinner when the Doctor had looked into his eyes, "Nitish, I love you. Our lives are incomplete unless we live them to the fullest. That is why I need you so badly to join me". Delicately he had offered Nitish a morsel of meat he had cooked himself.

Nitish still demurred. The Doctor had persisted, "Forget the things you were taught. There is no place for pity at this table. If you can master yourself now, you can master your life. The whole world is open to you". Putting his trust in this man he loved, Nitish had taken his first bite.

The next morning, he awoke groggy from the torrid session the night before. He still couldn't believe what had happened. Should he have felt revulsion going against his upbringing? But it had been so natural, just chewing and swallowing a piece in his mouth. But something had changed. Over the next days, Nitish questioned every assumption he had implicitly believed. The Doctor had been right, once you realised your limits were put by you, the whole world opened up. To think it took just one tiny transgression. If he didn't lust after him so badly, Nitish thought he could worship the man.

So much of life behind a few pixels whose meaning nobody but he understood. Through all that reverie, Nitish had ordered the final ingredients. And everything was done. This was a setting fit for the Doctor. And also Mr Malhotra, he realised as an afterthought.

The doctor arrived punctually at 7:30. Methodically, he put away his bag and changed his work clothes. Then when he was prepared, he approached Nitish. "Is everything ready?" he smiled.

"Try it." Nitish offered a piece.

"Excellent", the Doctor laughed. "The sauce is perfectly done." He jaws slowly masticated as his palate savoured the released flavours. He grew thoughtful. "Collagen in the muscle is a little high, it's a bit chewy." Then looking up at Nitish's disappointed face, he added "But that's not your fault. It's the meat. I knew Malhotra ji was keeping fit. Next time I'll get someone with more fat on their bones to lubricate the muscle".